


you know someday, i'm going to make you mine

by weasleyspotter



Series: Ward x Simmons Tumblr Prompts [10]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Life As We Know It AU, There's some slight FitzSkye
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-02-22 14:52:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2511662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weasleyspotter/pseuds/weasleyspotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. It's not that she hates him. It's just that she wouldn't have chosen him, of all people, to raise a baby with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A really, really long time ago, I asked for AU prompts on tumblr, and midalah prompted me: AU where Ward and Simmons share a niece/nephew (or both) and they are the godparents and have to raise the child(ren) together.
> 
> I started writing the thing, and it ended up being a really long thing, so I decided to break it up into chapters. It's really really really loosely based off of Life as We Know it, only certain elements of the story will be incorporated, and there's going to be plots that definitely weren't in the movie. 
> 
> Originally I had planned to have it be Skye and Fitz be the baby's parents, but surprise surprise, I couldn't actually bring myself to kill them off, so...well, you'll see!
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

“I’m pregnant.”

Jemma’s mouth drops open as she stares at Linda Ward. Linda is glancing at her out of the corners of her eyes, her face is blank but her eyes are swimming with anticipation. She takes a moment to bask in the shock, before she pastes on a smile. “Seriously?” She gasps out, hoping that there’s just the right note of surprise and happiness in her voice.

Linda glows at her and it’s hard not to feel that swirling pit of despair curl deep in her stomach. Linda is pregnant. Her best and oldest friend is with child. She is going to be a mom.

A great mom, Jemma realizes.

Linda’s face breaks out into a large smile. “Seriously.” She sighs happily. She’s already doing that thing where she rests her hand on her stomach, her face the picture of contentment.

For a moment, Jemma flounders. She almost wants to console Linda, but she knows that’s not the right response, not when she’s so happy. She wants to console herself as well, but that would have to wait until later. Linda’s going to be a mom, and that’s a big deal, she knows it. “Congratulations,” she says finally. “I know that you’ll make an amazing mother.”

That’s the truth. Linda’s always had a caring side. It had been comforting while they were growing up, when Jemma would bury herself in textbooks and Linda would force her away from them for tea or a break. Or when one of their peers had found Jemma’s bookishness something to make fun of, and Linda had jumped to her defense.

“Thanks,” Linda actually beams at her.

*

Here’s the truth:

Growing up, she didn’t have many constants. There’s England, her parents, her sister, and Linda.

She hates England. Hates the dreary weather. Hates the stifling city. Hates her boring job.

And she loves her parents, but they won’t leave England, even if there was a plague.

Her sister, well, they’ve never been entirely close, and she’s settled down in small town, a few miles outside of the city, with a schoolteacher, and she’s happy.

Linda was her constant. They grew up together. And when Jemma announced one day that she had gotten a wonderful job and was moving across the Pond to the States, Linda had simply packed her things like it was a given that she would move with Jemma. But then one day, Linda met Michael Ward, and Linda left. Not at first, of course, but slowly, she moved her things out of their shared apartment, married Mikey, and now she’s pregnant.

It may have been Jemma’s idea to leave for New York, but it was Linda who left first.

*

Mikey is more observant than Jemma gives him credit for, and he sees it first.

“You know,” Mikey muses one day, after the congratulations are exchanged, and Jemma’s already stared at the peanut sized lump in the sonogram that Linda shoved in her face. “I know some pretty great guys if you’re, you know, looking for someone.”

Jemma winces at the pity in his voice. “I’m fine,” she replies automatically, a knee jerk reaction. “I’m really not looking for anything right now.”

“Oh,” Mikey purses his lips unhappily, “because I really think my brother would be perfect for you.”

Jemma perks up a bit at the mention of Mikey’s mysterious older brother. Jemma has only heard of Grant Ward through a vague explanation from Linda. “Your brother?” Jemma tries to keep the curiosity out of her words. She doesn’t want to seem interested, but she can’t deny her curiosity. “But I thought he was out of town on business?”

“He’s coming back to visit to see Linda and me, because of the baby,” Mikey dismisses. “And he’d be perfect for you. I could set something up,” Mikey trails off suggestively, waggling his eyebrows up and down.

Jemma dredges up the mental picture that Linda had given her. Stoic, a bit closed off, and impassive. Linda’s physical picture of Grant had been a bit more enticing. Impossibly tall, dark haired, with eyes as dark as night. Still she highly doubted that he was perfect for her.

“Thanks,” she says quickly, shaking her head, “but no thanks.”

Mikey’s face falls. “Oh,” he says quietly. “Well, let me know if you change your mind.”

Jemma simply assures him she would, and changes the topic to how to get Skye, his younger sister, to change a diaper.

*

She doesn’t actually meet Grant until the Christening.

Which she finds strange, considering the fact that they’re both named Godparents when Haley is born. She can’t entirely blame him, because somehow every time he is in town, she happens to be busy with some crisis at the lab, and Linda went into labor early, so Grant hadn’t been in town.

Linda asks her to meet him at the airport, which she thinks is a poor idea, because she has no idea what Grant looks like. But Mikey and Linda are too tired to show her a picture, and it doesn’t occur to her to check social media. So she ends up writing Grant Ward in loopy cursive on a scrap piece of cardboard that she tears off a box that’s sitting in her garage.

She shifts from foot to foot, holding the sign in front of her as the people on his flight file past her, not even sparing her a second glance.

For a moment, when the crowd begins to thin down to one or two stragglers, she thinks she’s missed him. That surely, he walked past her, expecting Linda or Mikey to pick him up. Or maybe he took a cab. Or he missed his flight. She checks her phone, but there’s no missed calls, and she thinks if the last were true, he would have called Mikey or Linda, who would have called her.

She’s about to call Linda and tell her that this was the most ridiculous idea, when a voice interrupts her musing. “Jemma Simmons?”

She turns towards the source of the deep voice. He’s tall, incredibly tall. And good-looking, incredibly good looking. Those are the two things she notices, before she realizes the man standing in front of her is Grant Ward.

He doesn’t really resemble Mikey all that much. While Mikey is light with blonde hair and bright blue eyes, Grant is dark with black as night hair and chocolate brown eyes.

“Grant Ward?” She asks, with a hesitant smile.

He nods, extending his left hand for her. “Nice to meet you,” he says shortly, his eyes glancing around the baggage claim.

She shakes his hand, giving him a quick once over. He’s wearing a suit, she realizes. And though it fits him well, she thinks it’s an odd choice for flying. But maybe he had a meeting, she muses.

He pulls out of her grasp, shifting his briefcase to his left hand, and she remembers herself. “Do you have a check in?” She asks.

“No,” he glances towards the exit.

“Oh well,” she feels caught off guard at the fact that he steadily avoids her gaze. “I’m parked outside.” She gestures outside awkwardly. “So, uh,” she turns to walk out, pausing only to hear his footsteps behind her. “Mikey and Lynn were really sorry they couldn’t be here to pick you, but they’re so busy with Haley.”

“Michael told me,” he says shortly. He pauses for a moment. “Lynn?”

“Oh,” Jemma’s eyes widen. “It’s what I,” she trails off unsure how to explain it. “I call Linda, Lynn sometimes, and she calls me—.”

“I get it,” Grant cuts her off, the corner of his mouth twitches.

For a moment, she feels a flash of anger at the man that unnerves her so much. She reins in her anger, knowing that Linda wouldn’t appreciate her fighting with her co-Godparent within a few minutes of meeting him.

They pause in front of her junky car, and she turns towards him, raising an eyebrow at him, as if daring him to comment on her car. She knows that he must have seen or ridden in much better cars (judging by the suit he’s wearing, she gathers that he has definitely been in better cars) than her ancient car, but he merely stares at it.

He simply watches as she jiggles the trunk open and places his briefcase inside. He waits until they’re inside before he says it. “I’m staying at a hotel nearby, you can drop me off there.”

Curiosity wins over anger, and she asks, “You’re not staying with Mikey and Linda?”

He shoots her a look, his questions of her sanity clearly playing out on his face, but he answers her regardless, “They have a baby, I wouldn’t want to be a hindrance to them.”

“Or you wouldn’t want to help,” she mumbles under her breath, and if he hears, he doesn’t respond.

She drives him to the hotel, and barely looks at him as he thanks her shortly before leaving her car, shutting the car door with a bang. She grabs her phone and dials Linda almost immediately, not even waiting for her to say a weak and tired hello before she says, “Tell me I never have to see him again.”

“Who?” Linda practically sighs into the phone, she can almost imagine her slumped over, holding the phone weakly to his ear, like she used to in college when she was hungover.

Jemma’s too angry to console her, though. “Grant Ward, Mikey’s brother, the man you made me pick up from the airport. Promise me, I never have to see him again.”

Linda lets out a short laugh, catching on. “He’s a delight, isn’t he?”

“Linda,” she says warningly, moments away from slamming her head against the steering wheel, “he’s got about as much charisma as an amoeba.”

Linda snorts, “He’s not that bad.” She pauses for a moment, growing more serious. “Look I swear, he’s really not that bad. I know he’s a bit closed off, but it’s cause he had a really hard childhood. He practically raised Mikey and Skye, you know? Mikey idolizes him, so please make an effort to tolerate him. Besides you’ll be seeing him soon enough.”

Jemma let out a loud exhale. “Why?” She asks, even though she knows that answer.

“Because he’s Haley’s godfather.” Linda sighs, “And you are going to be at the Christening. So pull yourself together, okay?”

She just sighs.

*

A year later, she meets him on Haley birthday.

(She tries to avoid him as much as possible, and it’s easy because he’s barely in town, and when he is, she makes up some excuse about work and such. But she can’t miss her goddaughter’s birthday, not even Grant Ward can keep her away.)

“I want a picture of Haley with her Godparents,” Linda trills, her bangs falling into her eyes as she bobbed up and down with enthusiasm. Mikey placed a calming hand on her shoulder, but even he had a large smile plastered across his face.

She stifles a groan as she bends down towards Haley who is banging a spoon against a mashed up piece of cake. She gives a little giggle at the sight of Jemma’s face nearby hers. She barely looks at Grant, as he crouches down on the other side of Haley. Haley, however, notices her Uncle and gives a squeal of delight, and Jemma vaguely remembers Linda telling her that Haley adored Grant, to all of their surprise.

Apparently he is actually good with kids.

“Say Cheese,” Linda squeals, before the flash goes off momentarily blinding them. When the light fades away, and Jemma can see properly, Linda pulls away from the camera to glance at the picture. “It’s adorable,” she declares happily. “Want to see?” She holds out the camera in offering, but Jemma simply waves her off.

(Though later, when Linda’s preoccupied by the fact that Haley’s smeared her dress with chocolate cake, Jemma flips through her phone to find the picture of them and slyly sends it to her phone.  
No one has to know.)

*

They run into each other in the kitchen, though.

Linda hands her Haley and asks her to clean Haley off, please, because she needs to be a good hostess and Skye’s just arrived with her new boyfriend and Mikey’s about to throw a fit because he has tattoos and an ear piercing. Jemma coos at Haley as she walks through the kitchen door and barely notices Grant standing in front of a sink, hands deep in a pool of soapy water.

For a moment she’s taken off guard at the scene that’s so domestic and so unlike the Grant Ward she’s come to expect, she merely stares at him.

Haley takes notice of him and reacts faster that Jemma. She starts to screech and lunges out of Jemma’s hands towards him. Recovering herself quickly, Jemma moves one of her hands to support the struggling baby.

Grant lifts his hands out of the water, and dries them off on a dishtowel. He steps towards them, hands outstretched. Haley is practically leaping out of her arms at this point, so Jemma hands her over. She settles into Grant’s arms, sighing happily against his chest.

“Can you please wash her hands?” Jemma says quietly, avoiding his eyes. “I’ll finish the dishes for you.”

“They’re done,” Grant says shortly. Something in his face softens as Jemma meets his gaze, “Could you just drain the soap water?”

“Sure,” she dipped her hands into the sink and pulled out the rubber stopper, watching the water swirl into the drain at the bottom. She listens quietly as Grant speaks in a low voice towards Haley. He doesn’t coo at Haley, not like Mikey or Linda. He speaks to her in this low quiet voice that seems almost muted. But it seems to work, because Haley stares at him enraptured.

He catches her gaze and she feels her face heat up at the thought that he caught her staring at him. Quickly she changes the subject. “I’m surprised to see you in here doing the dishes.” She says, her voice unnaturally high.

“Linda asked for some help,” he said calmly. “Besides, I can do dishes.” There’s a note in his voice that she can’t quite place.

She feels herself heat up. It was almost like he knew what she had been thinking about him. “I know,” she continues quickly, “It’s just I thought you’d be outside with Mikey interrogating Skye’s new boyfriend.”

He lets out a short laugh that’s so familiar, she looks up at him in shock, half-expecting Mikey to be standing in front of her. He’s smiling and for the first time, she sees the resemblance between him and Mikey. “Mikey’s an idiot. There’s no point in intimidating Skye’s boyfriend, that’ll only push them closer together.”

Jemma stares at him curiously, “That’s awfully mature of you.”

“Skye does this every once and awhile. She brings someone so ridiculous around just to mess with everyone. Unfortunately she chose Haley’s birthday to act out. And I know better than to entertain her temper tantrum. She’ll get over it and herself and dump that guy soon enough.”

“Oh,” Jemma says quietly, feeling just a bit stupid.

“And if she doesn’t,” Grant says, smirking at her, “Well then I know how to get rid of him.”

They were having an actual conversation, and she didn’t want to violently rip his throat out. They were getting along. “So,” she says slowly, “are you hanging around for a bit longer this time? I know that you didn’t get to stay awhile last time, Linda told me.”

A flash of regret passes across his face, “I fly out tonight.”

“Oh,” she says quietly, wondering what exactly he did, and not for the first time. Linda had given her a vague explanation of security consulting, but she wondered what he could possibly do in security consulting to warrant so much travel.

Grant looks uncomfortable for a moment, and thankfully Haley begins to squirm in his hands, blabbering nonsense, but one syllable is constant and Grant looks down at her. “Yeah,” he says to her, “let’s got find your mama.”

As Grant made his way towards the screen door, Jemma felt something stir within her.

“Grant,” she calls, stopping him. “Uh,” she pauses for a moment, as he glances towards her with those impossibly dark eyes. “I just wanted to say that it’s nice to see you again.”

And she actually means it.

He gives her a soft rare smile. “It’s good to see you too, Jemma.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They say that nothing good ever happens after 2 am, and when Jemma picks up the phone in the middle of the night, she should have paid heed to the time on the clock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter two! And I'll be honest, it's a bit depressing and dreary, but of course you were all probably expecting that. There's not happy way to write this chapter.

It’s two in the morning when the phone call comes.

She lunges across her bed sleepily, grasping her phone tightly as she mumbles, “Hello,” into her pillow.

“Jemma Simmons?”

“This is she,” she yawns, praying that it’s not a telemarketer.

“I’m calling about Michael and Linda Ward.”

She stiffens a bit, holding the phone to her ear tighter. “Yes,” she says slowly.

“There’s been an accident.”

*

_Her best friend is dead._

That thought rings in her head as she runs towards their house. After she had hung up the phone, she had rushed out of the house, only bothering to throw on an oversized jacket and mismatched sneakers. Her hands had been shaking so badly, she had thought she wouldn’t be able to stick the key in the ignition. But she makes it to their place somehow.

There’s two police cars parked outside, and one of the officers is standing on the porch, like he was waiting for her. “Miss. Simmons?” He asks when she’s a few feet away, still running towards him at full force.

“Yes,” she says breathlessly, skidding to a stop. “What’s going on?”

The officer looks at her pityingly, “Officer Torres is inside with the babysitter and Haley Ward. I am very sorry for your loss.”

She looks past him at the open door. Haley is in there. Haley is an orphan. “I appreciate that,” she says dismissively. She swallows thickly. “But, is it really true? Cause—.”

The officer’s look of pity grows so intense that she has to look away. “I’m sorry, but they were both pronounced dead at the scene.”

She sways and the officer takes a worried step towards her. “Um,” she tries to think clearly, but her brain is puddle of mush and nothing makes sense. “What do I do now?”

The officer looks unsure for a moment, as if he’s reconsidering his words. “You were listed as Linda Ward’s emergency contact. We’re going to need you to identify the body.” He looks away, a sick look on his face.

Her stomach churns violently, and she clutches onto the railing of the porch tightly. “Right now,” she asks quietly, her voice dripping with horror.

Even though the officer’s face is now etched with pity, he says, “The sooner we can identify the victims, the better.”

Better for whom, she wonders, but she lets him lead her away from the house towards a police car waiting at the end of the driveway. Mercifully he doesn’t try to make conversation on the way to the hospital. And Jemma concentrates on keeping her sobs to a minimum.

She barely pays attention as the officer skillfully winds his way down to the Morgue, pulling her along because her feet aren’t working properly. There’s a doctor waiting by two bodies covered in white sheets. And her feet give way at the sight and she collapses to the ground.

“Are you okay?” The officer’s face swims to vision and she tries to blink away the blurriness.

“I’m fine,” she says slowly, hearing her own voice as if she is speaking through a tunnel. She wills herself to stand up, to do this for Haley. She pushes herself off the ground, and makes her way to the bodies. The doctor slowly lifts the sheet off the first body.

It’s Linda.

But it’s also not Linda. She’s stark white; her lips are a pale blue. Her eyes are closed and she looks like she’s sleeping, but there’s a thick gash running down the side of her face, but it’s not bleeding. Her red hair is matted with blood and tangled in a way that Jemma’s never seen on Linda before, not even during her worst mornings. It looks like Linda, but it’s not Linda. Because Linda would have opened her eyes and smiled at her brightly, because _really Jemma, I didn’t know you were coming today, but it’s so good to see you_.

Jemma swallows back the bile. “It’s her,” she mutters numbly. “It’s Linda.”

The doctor snaps the sheet back over Linda and then lifts the other one.

Seeing Mikey is equally horrible. He’s pale like Linda, but nothing mars his face. There’s not a mark on him, and it looks like he’s actually sleeping. Like in a moment, he’ll wake up and it’ll be a horrible nightmare.

Even worse, he looks like Grant.

“Mikey,” she moans quietly, covering her face with her hands.

She hears the officer murmur something to the doctor, and she slumps forward. “I need some air,” she mumbles, and she feels the officer pull her upright and march her out of the Morgue.

She keeps her eyes focused on her feet as she feels the officer push her forward vaguely. She tries to count the steps. One, two, three. Left, right, left, right.

She doesn’t really understand anything until the cold wind hits her face and she realizes that they’re outside. The officer is staring at her, as if trying to decide how she’s feeling, or whether he needs to march her back into the hospital for an IV.

“Thank you,” she says quietly, blinking back the tears that are stinging her eyes. She wonders how her tear ducts haven’t dried out yet.

“Can I ask you one more thing?” He asks carefully.

“Yeah,” she says, just hoping that he would let her go home, and curl up in her bed and forget anything that just happened.

“We tried contacting Mr. Ward’s parents, because they were the only emergency contact that made sense, but they didn’t pick up. Do you know the numbers of Mr. Ward’s relatives so we can contact them?”

“That made sense?” She questions, thinking of the numerous people they could have called. Surely Grant and Skye would have been on there.

“Well the first two numbers led to different restaurants,” he shifts uncomfortably, as if he is unsure whether to admit the information. “The numbers must have been recorded wrong.”

She tries to think clearly. “There’s Skye, Mikey’s younger sister. She’s in college; I think I have her cell phone number. And then there’s Grant,” she trails off at that, a sob choking at her throat.

Oh god, Grant. He’s going to be devastated.

“Grant Ward,” she continues thickly. “He’s Mikey’s older brother. He raised Mikey, more than their parents ever did. You need to call him first.”

“Okay,” the officer nods quickly, “We’ll try him first.”

The chill begins to settle through her robe. “Do you mind dropping me off at Mikey and Linda’s place? I need to see Haley.”

“Sure,” the officer says, placing a soft hand on her upper arm, leading her towards his car.

The thoughts are swimming in her head, but one sticks out more than the rest. “I’m sorry, officer, I don’t think I caught your name.”

He smiles at her softly. “Officer Tripp, Ma’am. Antoine Triplet.”

*

She stays up all night watching Haley.

Haley’s sleep is troubled. She keeps waking up every hour screaming at the top of her lungs. Jemma tries everything, diapers, bottles, music. But her diapers are dry, she hates the bottles, and music won’t settle her.

It’s six in the morning when a haggard looking Grant staggers into the room.

She’s cradling Haley in her arms, and she sits upright as he stumbles into the room. “You’re here.” She can’t help the relief that floods her voice at his presence.

“I was nearby when I got the news,” he whispers, grief carved into his face. “I took the first flight in.” He stares at Haley. “How is she?”

“Not good,” Jemma says mournfully, looking down at the irritated, tired baby.

Grant nods like he understands. He takes a few steps towards them, and he’s so tall that he towers over them. Jemma cranes her neck up at him, holding Haley out like a peace offering. But he doesn’t take the fussy baby from her arms.

“What are we supposed to do?” She asks him, hoping that he has the answers to the questions she’s been mulling over for hours.

Instead, he shakes his head, “I have no idea.”

*

Skye arrives in the evening, a sobbing mess that clings to Grant as soon as she stumbles through the doorway.

They stay in the house together (even Jemma, because she can’t stand the thought of going home, even though she wants nothing more than to curl up in her bed and sleep until the end of days), tip toeing from room to room, expecting Mikey and Linda to walk into the room at any moment. It feels strange to be staying in their house, sleeping in their beds, taking care of their child. It feels wrong.

Skye has breakdowns by the hour, and Grant is so busy handling Mikey and Linda’s affairs that Jemma is left with the responsibility of taking care of Skye. It’s difficult when she feels near a breakdown herself, but she manages to pull Skye into her arms and let her sob until she has no tears left to cry.

A woman from social services shows up and offers to take Haley until they find a more suitable arrangement, but Grant glares at her so fiercely, she backs down instantly.

They plan the funeral. Jemma knows little about funerals. She’s only been to one for distant uncle that she had never actually met. So the funeral hadn’t had a particular impact on her. She simply remembered a lot of lilies and her father bowing over her with a solemn face and the sole words he spoke on the matter, “Death is a difficult thing, Jemmie. It doesn’t matter how close you are or how distant you are, you’re going to feel it.”

Apparently there’s a lot to do. They have to find plots in graveyards and buy coffins and hire a priest and buy flowers and invite everyone that would want to come and so on and so forth.

On the morning of the funeral, Skye refuses to get out of bed and Haley’s fussy. Grant handles Skye. He speaks to her quietly at first, kneeling by her bed, hands clasped in front of him as he tells her that Mikey and Linda would want her there, and she would want to pay her respects. But then he ends up dragging her out of bed and forcing her under the cold water until she begins to function properly. Jemma cringes at the sight and almost intervenes until she sees that it is actually working.

Haley squirms as Jemma begins to slip the dress onto her. She sobs heavily as Jemma zips up the back, and Jemma wants to sob along with her. “I know, baby,” she murmurs soothingly. “I know.”

They sit in the front like they’re supposed to. She holds Haley in her arms and Skye clutches onto Grant, as the Priest says the final rite and their caskets are lowered into the ground.

During the memorial service, people walk up to them with sympathy cards and tearful faces as they coo over what amazing people Mikey and Linda were and how poor Haley is alone in the world now. Jemma bristles at that, while Skye glares, and Grant manages to keep a level head as he sternly assures the well wishers that Haley would never be alone.

Towards the end, Grant speaks, because they know that one of them should and Jemma has little faith in her ability to get through a speech and even less in Skye.

He stands the podium, looking at the crowd for a bit, searching for something, before he starts speaking. “My brother,” he says slowly, “was the lightest person I knew.”

He waits for a moment, letting it sink in.

“When my parents told me that I was going to have a brother,” he continues, “I was upset. My only experience with brothers was my older brother, and I hated him.”

A few giggles go through the crowd, like the audience assumes the comment was meant to be comical, but Jemma can tell from the hardness of Grant’s face and the way that Skye clutches onto her hand even tighter that it isn’t a joke.

“Mikey was different, though. He was always smiling, always laughing, always happy. And everyone loved him instantly.” Grant says. “Growing up, we didn’t always have it easy. I had to grow up quickly, to take care of Mikey and my younger sister Skye, and that changed me. But it never changed Mikey. No matter how hard things got, no matter how horrible they were, he was still always smiling, always laughing, always happy.”

He trails off for moment, as if looking at something in the distance.

“When he met Linda, we knew that he had met the one. That person he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with. And when they had Haley,” he glances towards them, “it was like his life was perfect. He had everything he ever wanted, that he had ever deserved.”

He pauses for a moment, as if trying to find the words.

“My brother was an amazing person and he deserved more time,” he says frankly. “He deserved to live until he was old and wrinkled with Linda. He deserved the opportunity to walk Haley down the aisle. He never did complained, and even now I doubt he’s complaining. But,” he trails off, “he didn’t deserve this.”

Jemma feels the lump in her throat get bigger, and her eyes grow moist.

“People have been asking if what I would say to my brother if I could tell him anything,” Grant blinks rapidly. “So,” he says slowly, “Mikey, if you’re listening, I hope you know that I love you, that we all love you. And,” he takes a step back from the podium, “you’ll never be forgotten.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please kudos and comment if you enjoyed, and subscribe if you want to see more.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The easy part shouldn't be the beginning but the transition to parent isn't as difficult as Jemma expects. That doesn't mean that there aren't some bumps along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been sitting on this chapter for a bit mainly because there's a scene in this chapter that's a thanksgiving scene and well I wanted to publish it closer to thanksgiving. Anywho, to my readers in America, Happy Thanksgiving! I hope you eat really well this Thursday. Also I hope that you enjoy this chapter. It's more of a set up for the plot which is really going to pick up speed in the next chapter.

When they get back, Jemma holes up in Haley’s room, to avoid the people milling around in the living room.

Eventually Grant slips into the room. He looks at her with concern for a moment. He opens his mouth as if going to say something but then closes it suddenly.

“Do you need something?” She tries to ask politely, but her voice is shaking and she just wants to be alone right now.

“There’s someone here to speak with us.” He says finally, his eyes dart away from hers and focus on the floor.

“With us?” She asks curiously, standing up.

“Yeah,” he says softly, avoiding her eyes. “It’s Mikey and Linda’s lawyer.”

“Oh,” she says quietly. She glances down at Haley, “Should we bring her along as well?” She doesn’t know how these things work and she figures that it will matter to Haley one day.

“No,” Grant shakes his head. “She doesn’t need to be there for that. Skye’ll watch her.”

Skye walks in to the room, eyes cast downwards. For a moment, Jemma hesitates, but Skye looks up at her and manages a watery smile. Jemma carefully places Haley down in her crib, and follows Grant out the door. He leads her downstairs and into the living room where there is a short man who is shuffling around a briefcase.

“Jemma,” Grant turns towards her, hand gesturing to the other man. “This is Phil Coulson, he was Mikey and Linda’s lawyer.”

She struggles for a moment, because her instinct is to say that it’s a pleasure to meet him, but it really isn’t.

Luckily Phil Coulson picks up on her hesitancy, he sticks out his hand, and she shakes it quickly. He gestures towards a couch. “Shall we?”

They sit down, her and Grant on one couch and Phil on a loveseat nearby.

“First,” Phil says staring at both of them sincerely. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for your loss. I know it means little, but Michael and Linda were wonderful people and I was pleased that I got the chance to know them, even a little bit.”

Grant stares forward silently, avoiding Phil’s gaze, so Jemma speaks, “Thank you.”

Phil doesn’t seem perturbed by Grant’s behavior as he reaches towards his briefcase and pulls out a thick stack of papers. He doesn’t even glance at them as he begins to speak. “Michael and Linda wanted their assets to go towards paying off the debt on the house, the rest is to be placed into a trust for Haley which is to mature and be accessible to her when she turns 18.” Phil looks unsure for a moment. “However, that’s not the issue here.”

Grant looks up suddenly, “The issue?”

Phil pauses for a moment, shuffling with the papers in his hands. “Did Michael and Linda ever speak to both of you on who would care for Haley in the unlikely event of their death?”

Jemma feels herself shake her head, but her heart starts thudding so loudly, she can barely focus on Phil Coulson’s words.

Phil inhales deeply, “They named you both.”

“What?” Grant leans forward. “Coulson—,” he begins, and then stops suddenly. “Mr. Coulson,” he starts again, “you can’t be serious.”

“They asked us to take care of Haley, together?” Jemma asks, gesturing wildly between her and Grant. “As in the both of us?”

Phil looks at them sadly. “Believe me, I warned them against it.” He speaks to Grant mainly. And for a moment, Jemma feels like she’s missing some part of the conversation that only Phil and Grant seem privy to. She begins to open her mouth to question what’s going on, but Phil cuts her off, “But they were very insistent that you two raise Haley.”

Grant exhales loudly. “This doesn’t make any sense, we don’t live together. We can’t raise a child.” He leans forward and places his head in his hands.

Phil slides over a stack of papers. “They left you both the deed to their house. Should you choose to take guardianship of Haley, you will be given the house to raise her in.”

Jemma feels the breath leave her chest. The house was Mikey and Linda’s pride and joy. They had been so happy when they bought it. And they had given her and Grant that.

“I don’t understand,” Jemma says slowly. “So we’re supposed to just give up our lives and move in here and raise Haley.”

Phil looks at her suddenly, as if remembering that she was there. “If you choose to do so, however,” he says slowly, “we could explore other options.”

Grant’s head snaps up. “What other options?”

“Well,” Phil pulls out a sheet of paper. “Should you choose not to raise Haley, we can discuss other options for guardianship. The first option the state would consider is Michael or Linda’s parents.”

“Not my parents,” Grant growls fiercely. Jemma remembers the little information Linda had shared on Mikey's parents and she finds herself vigorously shaking her head in agreement with Grant.  

“And Linda’s parents live in England. They’re really old and Linda’s father is in remission. I don’t think they’d be able to care for Haley even if they wanted to.” Jemma cuts in.

Phil scratches something off the paper. “There’s your younger sister, Skye.” He says half-heartedly, like he didn’t consider that to be an option.

Grant shakes his head. “Skye’s in college, that’s not fair to her.”

Phil nods. “The only other option is any other relative that steps up to take custody, but that’s unlikely.” He sighs heavily. “It seems like the state will take custody of Haley.”

“What?” Jemma gasps. “What does that mean?’

“It means that she’ll be placed in temporary housing, an orphanage or a foster home, at least until they can find a family willing to adopt her.” Phil shrugs. “If you would like, I can speak to child services.”

“No,” Jemma breathes. She whirls towards Grant, “we can’t let that happen. Mikey and Linda wouldn’t want that.”

“Jemma,” Grant says slowly, he looks contemplative. “We can’t raise Haley.”

“We can’t let her go into foster care either,” Jemma says angrily. She turns towards Phil. “I’ll take custody of her.”

Phil looks caught off guard, but she can catch a hint of an approving smile playing on his face. “I’ll start the paperwork.” He says standing up. He turns towards Grant. “You can choose to take custody, as well, if you wish, by tomorrow afternoon.” And he walks out.

Jemma turns towards him, “If you really mean what you said at the memorial service, if you really want to make sure Mikey’s not forgotten, then you have to make sure Haley remembers him and Linda. And the only way to do that is if you’re around. If you care about her, you’ll do this for her.”

And with that, Jemma strides out of the room.

*

It’s evening when Jemma realizes that she might have overreacted.

Raising a child is a huge decision and she knows that she rushed into it emotionally. She wouldn’t take it back, but it was unfair to tell Grant that he’s been selfish by choosing not to raise Haley. He had a job, a life, and raising a child is a choice, he didn’t have to make the choice if he didn’t want to. And Jemma couldn’t begrudge him that.

She locks herself in Haley’s nursery, first out of anger, later out of shame. And she waits until she hears Grant’s heavy footsteps pass the door and Skye’s quiet sobs begin in the next room, before she slips out, creeping down the stairs with Haley held tightly in her arms.

She slips into the kitchen, placing Haley in her feeding chair and pulling out a bottle of mashed carrots and peas. “Are you hungry, baby?” She coos at Haley, as she clasps a bib onto Haley and opens the bottle. “Here you go,” she says, scooping out a spoon full of orange mush and placing it in Haley’s open mouth.

When she’s halfway through the bottle, Haley stubbornly refuses to take another bite. “Come on,” Jemma pleads. “I know you’re not full yet. Hales, please.”

“You have to do the airplane noises,” a low voice says behind her.

She jumps up in fright and whirls around to face the intruder, and instead comes face to face with Grant. “You scared me,” she says breathlessly, placing a steadying hand to her chest, trying to control the fast paced beating of her heart.

Grant ignores her, walking towards the both of them. He takes the bottle and spoon out of her hands and begins to spiral the spoonful towards Haley’s mouth, making strange engine noises. Haley, enraptured by the proceedings, willing opens her mouth. “Mikey used to make the airplane noises to get her to eat.” He explains softly, while Haley smugly mashes the food in her mouth.

“Oh,” Jemma says, filing the information away for later, when she would be alone with Haley. She quickly pushes that thought out of her mind. “I’m sorry,” she says quickly, eager to make up for her faux pas. “I didn’t mean what I said earlier.”

“You did,” Grant says, continuing to stare at Haley, “And you were right.” He turns towards her, his brown eyes boring into her own.

She didn’t know that brown eyes could be so entrancing.

Haley lets out a small shriek at being ignored for even a second, and Grant dutifully places another spoonful in her mouth.

When Haley is satisfied, he turns towards her again. “When Mr. Coulson told us that Mikey and Linda wanted us to raise Haley, I was caught off guard. I wasn’t thinking straight. Mikey knew that my job makes me travel a lot, and we’re not together,” he gestures between the two of them. “It didn’t make any sense.”

“It doesn’t,” Jemma agrees. Linda knew that Jemma had little experience with children, expect for a few nights of babysitting Haley.

“But,” Grant continues. “I kept thinking about it. Haley was the most important thing to them. They wouldn’t just leave her to anybody.” He sighs, “We should honor their wishes.”

“You’re going to do it?” Jemma asks.

“We’re going to do it.” He finishes. “We’re going to raise Haley.”

*

They make the arrangements that need to be made.

Jemma’s lease runs up in a month and she decides not to renew it. She spends a Saturday selling out most of her furniture and moves in only the necessities because she can’t stand to change a thing in Mikey and Linda’s house. She cuts back on her hours at the lab temporarily. Her boss understands, but there’s a glint in his eyes that she can’t decipher.

Grant cuts back on work as well, or so he tells her. He says he won’t have to leave as often, that he’s taken a more local job, but he might have to go on a business trip occasionally. He looks so unsure when he tells her that, so she quickly reassures him that it’d be okay with her.

Skye goes back to college. She lingers in the doorway for a long time when she’s supposed to drive back to school. She assures that she has no problem transferring to a closer college, but they push her out the doorway because she deserves better.

She tells her parents, and they hesitate, but she reminds them that it’s her life, and they quickly back down. Charlotte has kids, so being a grandparent is nothing new to them, but they still coo over the idea of Haley and promise to visit soon.

Fitz is the only one who doesn’t understand and is quite vocal about it.

“Jemma,” he says patiently as she bustles around him, quickly finishing her work because she’s got to leave soon or she’ll be late. “You can’t do this.”

“What?” She snaps at Fitz, “Can’t do what?” She’s tired of having the same argument over and over again. It’s beginning to feel like a script.

“Can’t raise a baby.” He snaps back.

She pauses, swallowing the anger, facing him for a moment. “What choice do I have?”

Fitz stares at her for a moment. “Foster care really isn’t that bad.”

“Don’t,” she says warningly, holding out a finger towards him.

Fitz backs off instantly, “Look, Jemma.”

“No, Fitz,” Jemma cuts him off. “I get that you’re just worried about me, but,” she sighs, “this is something I have to do. Please,” she begs, “please understand that. I need you to understand that.” She feels the moisture collect at the edges of her eyes, and Fitz looks at her nervously. She quickly blinks the moisture away.

“Okay,” he says soothingly. “I understand, I promise.”

“Thank you.” She says quietly, finishing up her work.

He’s quiet for a moment. Finally he speaks, “How’s it going with Mr. Tough Guy?”

Jemma smiles a bit at the disdain in Fitz’s voice. Fitz’s sole meeting with Grant had gone poorly. Fitz had come to the house to take her out for a movie on her evening off, and it had been Grant who had opened the door for her, Haley in his arms. Somehow Grant had managed to thoroughly intimidate Fitz while holding the baby. It was only through Fitz’s stuttered explanation that Jemma found out that Grant thought she was dating Fitz.

It was Jemma’s uncontrollable teasing and laughter that cemented Fitz’s hatred of Grant.

“He’s fine,” she says nonchalantly. “Our system is working quite well.” She refers to the system that she devised in the beginning of their arrangement. They slept in separate bedrooms, with her taking the guest bedroom and Grant sleeping on a cot in the office, because neither of them can stomach the thought of sleeping in the master just yet.

They decided that co-parenting would work the best, but she decided to give both of them nights off. Nights where they took a step back from the craziness their lives had become. And so far it worked. Jemma isn’t entirely sure what Grant does on his nights off, because it doesn’t seem like he has many friends, but she supposes it isn’t any of her business.

“Good, good,” Fitz says distractedly. “If he makes a fool of himself—.”

“I promise I’ll take a picture or video and send it to you,” Jemma completes with a laugh.

“Just making sure.”

*

When she gets home, she catches him staring at the calendar intently.

“Hey,” she says slowly, “Everything ok?”

“Do you need Saturday off?” He asks distractedly.

“Uh,” she says slowly. “Well it’s my day off.”

“Do you _need_ it off?” He repeats.

“Why?” She counters, growing a bit angry at his attitude, dropping her bag to the floor, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Something came up,” he says, “I need to go out of town this weekend.”

“What?” She gasps, striding towards the calendar, “You can’t do that. It’s not on the calendar.”

“What do you want me to do, Jemma? It came up.” He snarls at her, reaching for the pen.

She grabs the pen out of his hand. “No way, its my night off.”

“Look, all you do on your nights off are going to the movies with your little friend, Fitz,” he says derisively. “You can skip one.” He pauses for a moment. “You can do it on Tuesday. We’ll switch days off,” he offers.

“No,” she shakes her head furiously. “There’s an important dinner at my boss’. I have to go. I told you this weeks ago. It’s really important.”

Grant’s face softens, and regret floods his face. “Jemma, what I have to do is important too. I wouldn’t leave if it wasn’t.”

Jemma doesn’t back down. She simply crosses her hands over her chest and cocks her hip. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

He sighs, “I just found out an hour ago, my boss called.”

“Can’t you maybe take Haley with you?” Jemma suggests, looking up at him hopefully. Men took their babies to work, didn’t they? It was a thing. Jemma had even considered taking Haley to the lab when the workload had become unbearable. But Haley is too young and the possible exposure to hazardous chemicals and microorganisms is too much for Jemma to risk. Maybe when she’s older.

His face grows hard, “No.” He says definitively.

“Grant please,” she tries one last time to beg.

He runs a hand through his hair. “Look Jemma, I can’t take care of Haley. Hire a babysitter, take her with you, I don’t know, but I can’t take care of her.” And with that, he stomps out of the kitchen and few moments later, Jemma can hear the front door slam behind him as he leaves.

*

She doesn’t know when he leaves, but when she wakes up the next morning, he’s gone. There’s a note on the fridge saying simply that he had to leave a bit early, and she hates him just a little bit for not having the guts to tell that to her face.

Her boss frowns at her when she tells him she can’t come on Saturday. She considers taking Haley, at first, but Jemma couldn’t take care of her there. And Haley’s normal babysitter is already busy and Jemma doesn’t really trust anyone else. She says it’s an emergency, embellishing the truth a little bit, and by the end, her boss’ frown softens and he nods and accepts her excuse.

Saturday evening is relatively easy. Haley sleeps easily, she eats when she needs to, and she’s surprisingly unfussy. After Jemma puts her down for the night, she slips downstairs and turns on the TV. She hears the front door creak open, before she hears his voice call out, “Hello.”

She turns the TV off and pads her way towards the foyer, where he’s in the processing of taking off his coat. He looks exhausted, and his movements are slow and careful. “What are you doing here?” She asks, stepping into the foyer.

He doesn’t look entirely surprised to see her. “I thought you were at your party?”

“I had to cancel.” Bitterness drips from her voice, even though she doesn’t entirely mean it.

He has the good grace to look ashamed. “I felt bad,” he admits, taking off his shoes, “about how we left things, so I finished up early and came home.”

There’s something about the way he says things. Came home. This is their home. He came home. She lets that ring around in her head for a bit. “Okay,” she says slowly, unsure how to respond to that.

He looks upstairs. “How was she?”

“Fine,” Jemma leans against the doorway to the living room. “Surprisingly unfussy.”

“Is she sleeping?” He asks, and she nods in response. “Oh,” he says, glancing upstairs. “Well, uh, you can leave if you want to.” He glances at his watch. “It’s probably not too late for your party.”

She glances at the clock in the living room. He’s right. It’s only eight thirty. She could still make it, she’d be late, but she’d make it. She considers it for a moment. Then shakes her head. She looks up at him. “I was going to watch some TV, actually. Would you like to join me?”

He looks taken aback at the suggestion. Although they were living together and taking care of a baby, they rarely spent time together, especially time without Haley. Just when she thinks she’s going to wave off her suggestion, he speaks. “Sure,” he says, looking a bit bemused.

“Great,” she says uncomfortably. “Do you like popcorn? I was going to make some popcorn. But you don’t have to have it if you don’t want it, or maybe I shouldn’t make it.”

“I like popcorn,” he cuts her off.

“Okay, good.” She says. “I’ll go make that.” She points towards the kitchen awkwardly.

“I’ll got put this upstairs,” he indicates to his suitcase.

“Sure,” she says, hurrying out of the foyer, into the kitchen.

As the popcorn pops in the microwave, she feels a bit stupid. She really shouldn’t feel so awkward around Grant; they lived together, after all. But they barely spent time together, and it had been through her suggestion that they finally were. She had been the one to ask him to join her. She

When the popcorn is done, she pokes her head out into the living room, where he’s lounging on the couch in pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, flipping through the channels on the TV. “Do you like butter and salt?” She asks.

He nods, and she pulls back into the kitchen to finish the popcorn. By the time he’s settled on some documentary on Animal Planet, she pads into the living room with a giant bowl of popcorn. “Thanks,” he mutters as he digs a hand into the bowl, pulling out a large handful of popcorn.

She focuses on the bears lumbering across the TV screen, trying to understand what’s going on, when he speaks up suddenly. “I’m really sorry about making you miss the party.”

She turns towards him, and instead of looking at the screen; his brown eyes are focused on her. “Oh,” she waves off, feeling a bit uncomfortable with the intensity of his gaze. “That’s okay.”

He doesn’t look convinced. “This thing,” he says delicately, “it came up suddenly, and I couldn’t refuse.”

She nods in understanding, popping a few kernels in her mouth.

He struggles for a moment, “I guess what I’m trying to say is that, this might happen again.”

She misses one of the kernels in shock. “What?”

“My job,” he says slowly. “It can be unpredictable at times. Sometimes I have to leave without much notice. It’s why I couldn’t understand why Mikey and Linda would leave Haley with me.” He shrugs, “That’s probably why they asked both of us to take of Haley, because you are reliable.” He sighs.

“You’re helping, Grant,” she assures him, placing a careful hand on his upper arm, warmth shoots through her at the touch, but she ignores it. “I couldn’t do this without you,” she admits, looking away from his gaze.

He’s quiet for a moment. “Thanks,” he says finally. He places a hand over his, and his touch is like electricity, it shoots through her. She wants to jerk her hand back, but his fingers paralyze her. She glances up at him, and his fingers leave hers. Clearing her throat, she draws her fingers back as well.

He turns towards the TV, “Are you okay with this?” He gestures towards the animal program with the remote.

“Yeah,” she crosses her legs and settles the popcorn bowl in between her legs.

She tries to focus on the animals on the screen in front of her, but his presence is overwhelming. She feels herself get distracted by his proximity. She’s surprised by the amount of times she wants to reach out and grab him, but she keeps her hands tightly clutched onto the popcorn bowl.

She only remembers to breath when he leaves the room to go to sleep.

*

Nothing is easy, but certain things come naturally to both of them.

It’s funny how it happens, but maybe it’s Jemma being used to fecal matter in general, but she never shies away from a dirty diaper, and neither does Grant.

Fitz’s jaw actually drops when Jemma admits that Grant changes nearly as many diapers as she does.

Also they manage to keep to a schedule when it comes to Haley, when she eats, when she sleeps, even when her diaper needs to be changed.

But there are still moments when Jemma is so utterly taken off guard by her new role in life, moments when she has to physically stop herself to marvel at the turn her life has taken.

She belongs to someone else now.

*

Linda has an Aunt Martha who lives about two hours away and doesn’t keep quiet about the fact that she disapproves of Grant and Jemma raising Haley together. Jemma isn’t quite sure if the woman would have stepped up and taken Haley in if Jemma and Grant had passed up their opportunity for guardianship, but Martha acts like she would have done a better job. She calls Jemma frequently to snidely insinuate that everything she does in some way is wrong.

“I’m not saying that your generation can’t raise children,” Martha’s drawls, “But it’s just not the way it used to be. Besides, you and that boy, shacked up in their house, unmarried. It’s just not right.”

“I can assure you,” Jemma says slowly. “There’s nothing like that between Grant and myself. We’re just raising Haley together.

“If you say so.” Martha doesn’t sound too convinced. “But mark my words, a man and woman living together? Things happen, sinful things. And it’s going to mess with that little girl’s head.”

“Goodbye, Martha.” Jemma says insistently.

*

“Haley,” Jemma coos, lifting Haley up to pull up her little pants. “You look so adorable. You look so cute.” Jemma leans in to rub her nose across Haley’s stomach. “Auntie Jemma loves you,” she reminds the girl in a soft tone.

Haley babbles, “Jem,” she says happily, poking her finger into Jemma’s cheek.

“Yeah,” Jemma murmurs, “I’m your Auntie Jemma.”

Haley pokes her cheek again, “Ma,” she mumbles this time.

Jemma feels the breath leave her chest. She shakes her head furiously. “No, I’m Jemma,” she says shakily. “Can you say Jem-ma?” She sounds out breathlessly.

Haley looks at her with confusion. “Ma?”

“No no no,” Jemma murmurs, placing Haley down on the changing table. “I’m Jemma, Jem-ma.” She grabs both of Haley’s arms to hold her in place.

“Ma?” Haley blubbers, tears welling up in the corner of her eyes.

“Jemma?” Grant calls from the doorway. She turns towards him; her eyes are hazy with tears, making everything blurry. His eyes glance from her to Haley, now sobbing with full force. “Jemma,” he says slowly, padding his way towards Haley. “What happened? You’re making Haley upset.”

Jemma blubbers for a moment, unsure on how to voice her thoughts. Haley called her Ma. Was it a fluke? Children mumbled things sometimes it shouldn’t mean anything. But the syllable Ma directed at her has so much meaning. How could she explain that to Grant? Would he understand? Or would he call her out on her overreaction?

And at that moment, Haley buries her face into Grant’s neck and sighs out a pleased, “Da.”

Grant handles things better than she does. He freezes only for a moment, and the silence falls over the room. He remembers himself, and he slowly rocks Haley back and forth, until her breathing evens out. He places her down on the crib and grips Jemma’s arm, tugging her out of the rom.

When she passes through the doorway, a loud sob forces it’s way out of her throat. “Oh god,” she cries.

“Jemma,” he soothes. His hands clasp over her shoulders, turning her around to face him. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” she says furiously. “She just called us Ma and Da. How do we make her understand?”

“Should we?” Grant asks so quietly that she’s sure she hasn’t heard him right.

“What?”

He looks uncomfortable. “Linda and Mikey are dead, Jemma. They asked us to take care of Haley. We’re the only parents,” he struggles with the word, “that she’s ever going to know. Isn’t it better—?” He trails off.

“No,” she says fiercely. “It is not better. Linda and Mikey are her parents, not us. We don’t have the right,” she chokes.

“Calm down,” Grant instructs her. “Think about it rationally.”

“I can’t, Grant,” she sobs, tears streaming down her face freely. “All I keep thinking about is how excited Linda was the day that Haley called her Ma for the first time. She was so proud. And now her daughter was calling me Ma.”

“Jemma,” Grant says, taking a step towards her.

“No,” she lashes out at him, “You’re okay with this. You want this.” She pushes him away.

Grant looks stricken. “Jemma,” he takes a step towards her.

“Get away from me,” she roars, ripping away from him and racing towards her room, slamming the door behind her.

*

Hours later, Jemma Simmons calms down and realizes that she had overreacted.

She is beginning to form a habit where Grant Ward is concerned, and it isn’t a good one.

The thought of Haley calling her Ma still made her chest ache, Grant’s words start to make sense 30 minutes into her wallowing. And by the time she’s fully come around, she can feel a lightness in her chest that conflicts with the ache because Haley called her Ma. She recognizes Jemma as someone who is important to her.

It’s nearly eleven pm when she slips out of her room because her stomach is growling and she’s tired of staring at her own four walls. She assumes that Grant’s asleep, so when she opens the door to her bedroom and he’s standing on the other side, hand raised as if he was going to knock, she gives a short shrill scream. It’s cut off by Grant slapping his hand over her mouth, stifling the noise.

When silence falls over the both of them, he slowly removes his hand. “What are you doing?” Jemma hisses at him.

“I was coming to talk to you,” he shifts back and forth on his feet, looking uncomfortable with the situation.

“Oh,” she says surprised. “Come in,” she moves to the side, letting him walk through the doorway.

He walks in, looking a bit out of place in the flowery scheme of the bedroom. He hands her a plate of pasta. Her mouth waters at the sight. “I figured you must be hungry,” he continues to avoid her eyes.

“Thank you,” she says gratefully, settling into the chair in the corner. She begins to dig into the food with gusto.

“Look,” Grant says when she’s mid way through her meal. “I was thinking about it, and you’re right, we should try to make Haley understand that we’re not her parents.”

Jemma freezes, spoon held in the air, midway to her mouth. She slowly lowers the spoon back to her plate. “No, you were right.” She says softly.

“And I think that maybe we should try this,” Grant begins, his hand outstretched, papers clutched in them. Then he stops, “Wait what?”

Jemma couldn’t help the giggle that bubbles up in her throat at Grant’s expression, even thought it feels completely inappropriate. She tries to clear her expression. “When we agreed to become Haley’s guardians, we became the only parents she’ll ever remember.” Jemma shrugs. “She’s going to call us Mom and Dad.”

“We can explain it to her,” Grant offers.

Jemma shakes her head, “We will, but if she’s going to call me Mom, I’ll take it as a good thing.”

Grant gives her small smile. “I’ll leave you to your meal,” he says standing up.

For a moment, she feels a pang in her chest. She doesn’t want him to leave. “Uh,” she scoots forward. “You don’t have to leave.”

His expression softens. “Okay,” he says softly, sitting back down.

They spend the rest of the meal in silence. Simply enjoying the presence of each other.

But she wouldn’t have it any other way.

*

“So Thanksgiving at your place?” Fitz muses, staring at her intently, as if he were expecting her to cave and retract the invitation at any moment.

“Yeah,” Jemma says, rolling her eyes, thankful for the microscope in front of her. “We want to give Haley a normal Thanksgiving.”

“Jemma,” Fitz says patiently. “She’s a year old, she won’t remember.”

“She’ll ask about it eventually,” Jemma waves off. “And then we’ll have the pictures for her.”

Fitz is silent for a moment too long.

Jemma looks up at him. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.” She says.

“No,” he shakes his head. “I’ll come. It’s just,” he trails off.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, busying himself with some task.

Jemma pulls away from the microscope to look at him fully. “What’s going on Fitz?”

“It’s just,” he exhales loudly, turning towards her. “You’re different.”

“Different how?” She places her hands on her hips.

“You’re a mom,” Fitz says simply. “You care about these things now.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Jemma asks defensively.

“No,” Fitz shakes his head. “I think it’s a good thing.” He shrugs. “You have someone else that’s more important now. You’re even doing Thanksgiving now.”

There’s a teasing note at the end of Fitz’s thought, so Jemma giggles lightly, but her head is full of thoughts. She couldn’t deny the fact that she had changed. Her best friend died and now she is raising her daughter. She had to change.

But is a good or bad change?

*

“Happy Thanksgiving!” Skye crows as Jemma opens the door on Wednesday evening. Her arms wrap around Jemma and pull her into a fierce hug.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Jemma repeats, pulling out of the hug. “Grant,” she calls over her shoulder. “Your sister is here.”

There’s the heavy thud of footsteps behind her, and Skye shrieks as Grant and Haley come into view. “Haley,” Skye cries out, “oh you’re so big now.” Skye rushes forward and pulls Haley out of Grant’s arms.

“Good to see you too, Skye,” Grant says with a teasing smirk.

Skye shoots him an exasperated look. “Missed you, bro.” She nudges him with her free shoulder.

Grant rolls his eyes, but he looks lighter, happier with Skye in the house.

“So what’s new with this cutie?” Skye asks. “Is she walking yet? Talking?”

“She’s saying a few words,” Grant shoots Jemma a look. “And she’s walking.”

“This I’ve got to see,” Skye squeals, hurrying off into the living room. Grant moves to follow her.

“I’ll check on the Turkey,” Jemma tells him, heading off towards the kitchen.

She can hear the laughter from the living room, and it warms the pit of her stomach. For a moment she feels happy. Completely and utterly happy.

There’s a knock on the front door and she hurries to open it. Standing on the other side, holding a bottle of wine is an awkward looking Fitz. “Come in,” Jemma says happily, standing off to the side. She leads him to the living room, where Grant is crouched out on the ground, hands outstretched as Haley toddled towards him, Skye cheering her on.

They both look up Jemma and Fitz as they enter the living room.

“Who’s the cutie?” Skye asks curiously, as Grant shoots her a look.

“Grant, Skye, this is my good friend, Leo Fitz.” She turns towards Fitz. “This is Grant and Skye.” She points them out individually.

“Nice to meet you.” Fitz says quietly.

“I just need to check on one more thing,” Jemma says backing out of the room.

Fitz looks at her desperately.

“I’ll be right back,” she assures him.

The assurance is unnecessary though, because when she gets back, Fitz and Skye have opened the bottle of wine and are laughing in the corner hysterically, while Grant cradles a sleeping Haley in his arms as he glowers up at them.

“They’re getting along well.” Jemma mutters, coming to sit beside him.

“Too well.” Grant agrees.

They’re quiet for a moment. Finally Jemma speaks. “Do you think they would be happy?”

Grant looks at her curiously. “Your dork friend and Skye?”

“He’s not a dork,” Jemma says defensively. “No, I meant Mikey and Linda. If they were looking down at us, not that I believe in that, or anything, but if they were,” she stares straight at Skye and Fitz. “Do you think they would be happy with us?”

Grant’s quiet for a moment, lost in thought. “I think they would be really happy.” He says finally.

His hand clasps over her own, sending electric pulses shooting up her arm. She stares up into his warm brown eyes. She feels herself begin to drift towards him unconsciously.

“Should we eat?” Skye’s voice interrupts them, snapping Jemma away from Grant. It’s like Skye doused her in cold water, and one glance at Grant told her that she wasn’t the only affected by that moment.

“Uh,” Jemma shakes her head to clear it. “Yes, let’s eat.”

*

When they settle into the table, Grant asks Skye to say grace.

They’re not particularly religious, Jemma believes in science more than anything, and Grant has prayed only once, and it failed. But they’re both insistent on doing Thanksgiving right.

In retrospect, Grant probably shouldn’t have asked Skye to say grace.

“Good food, good meat, good god, let’s eat.” She says cheekily, a twinkle in her eyes that Jemma hasn’t seen in awhile.

Grant manages an impassive disapproving face, while Jemma cracks a small smile, and Fitz actually snorts a mouthful of wine into a napkin, which causes Skye to laugh so loud that even Grant ends up cracking a small smile.

The whole thing wakes up Haley, who isn’t happy at the rude awakening.

(But even with a baby shrieking through their entire dinner, Jemma thinks that Grant’s right.

They would be so happy with them.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please comment and kudos if you enjoyed, and subscribe if you wanna see more, because there's definitely more to come!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when things begin to settle down, her life is tossed around like a salad bowl. Then again, no one said raising a child with Grant Ward would be easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy Batman, this chapter has taken quite a while, considering I've just been sitting on it for ages. Anyway, I apologize quite profusely for waiting so long to post this, especially if you've been waiting for this. This is the point in the story where we kind of diverge from the life as we know it plot and go back to canon a bit. And well, it'll make more sense when you finish the chapter.

Eventually the glow of Thanksgiving fades and things go back to normal.

Skye goes back to school, Fitz’s number programmed into her phone, which Grant isn’t happy about, but he keeps quiet on the matter. Fitz drops by occasionally, but seems to show up more often when Jemma suggests that Skye might be making an appearance.

Grant still leaves the house occasionally. “Business trips,” he explains as he quickly walks out the door. They’re usually last minute and he always apologizes. Jemma learns not to ask any questions, because he never seems to have any answers for her.

Until one day, Grant comes back and he’s not okay.

She doesn’t really notice at first. Her back is to him as he walks in and she’s dealing with an exceptionally large pile of dishes. Haley’s been fussy all day, and she’s exhausted. So when he walks into the kitchen, and his pace oddly off, she takes no notice of it as she launches into her rant about how horrible her day has been.

It’s only when she whirls around to emphasize the point, “And you won’t believe how irritating Fitz was being today,” that she notices his face. “Oh god,” she gasps, racing towards him. “What happened?”

There was a long purplish bruise on the right side of his face tracing the length of his jaw and a gash above his left eyebrow. He is leaning heavily on a kitchen chair, keeping the weight off his right leg. And despite all this, he has the decency to say, “I’m fine.”

She shoots him a look that clearly says _try again_.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” He continues, shifting his weight awkwardly. He winces and then rights himself.

“Really?” She asks, “Cause it looks awful.”

His jaw clenches and he shakes his head stubbornly. “It’s fine.”

She lets out a loud exhale. “Come here.” She beckons him closer to her.

He pauses for a moment, before he slowly walks towards her, his right leg dragging behind his left. His hand is braced against his left side, and she sorely hopes there’s nothing wrong with his ribs.

She reaches into the cabinet and pulls out a thick white tube. “Believe it or not, but Fitz used to get into a lot of fights.”

Grant simply raises an eyebrow as if doubting the statement.

“Granted, he didn’t win any of them,” she admits, “but it became necessary to come up with a remedy for all the bruises he was getting.” She holds up the tube “It’s an herbal remedy, it’ll help the bruise heal quickly.” She squeezes a small amount of the thick orange paste on to her fingers and raises her hand slowly to hover over Grant’s jaw. She hesitates for a moment, before she slowly rubs the paste into his skin. He winces at the contact, but relaxes under the ministrations. She can even feel him leaning into her touch.

“Done,” she squeaks, pulling away when she realizes there’s more than an adequate amount of orange paste coating his skin.

He blinks rapidly, the haze clearing from his eyes. “Thanks.” He says, backing away from her. “I should go see Haley.” He says, making his way to the doorway.

“Wait,” she stops him and then she asks because she just has to ask one more time, “Grant, what happened to you?”

He turns back at her, there’s a look of longing on his face. The look passes quickly. “It’s nothing,” he says impassively. “I just fell.”

Usually the excuse is a poor one. Fitz had tried it on her the first few times he had gotten roughed up, and she hadn’t bought it. But there is an earnest note in Grant’s voice that makes it easier to believe than Fitz’s lies. However his eyes were blank, and Jemma knew better.

She feels something fall within her, “Okay,” she says softly, accepting his lie, and trying not to feel too disappointed that he couldn’t tell her the truth.

He looks conflicted for a moment, as if he wanted to take back what he said, but then he turned around and stalked out of the kitchen.

*

She finds out her answer on a Saturday.

Every morning, Grant leaves the house at the crack of dawn for a run. And every morning, Jemma is tasked with the job of taking care of the morning feeding and changing, because Grant isn’t there.

But that Saturday is different.

She doesn’t wake up to the sound of wails that indicate that Haley’s up early today, or her alarm that indicates that she needs to get up soon or Haley will start crying. She wakes up to the sound of static emitting from the baby monitor and an odd beeping noise.

She knows that Grant would have disabled the alarm system before he went for his run, and she can’t remember ever hearing that noise before in the house, but something inside of her freezes at the noise. She knows it’s not right. She reaches out and raises the volume on the baby monitor, but she can’t hear anything.

It’s seven in the morning, she realizes when she glances at the clock. Haley should be up by now.

Something isn’t right.

On pure instinct, she slips out of bed, and stops in the closet of the master bedroom to grab Mikey’s baseball bat. She assures herself as she clenches the rubber grip, that she’ll be laughing when she bursts into Haley’s room and there’s no one there but a sleeping Haley.

But Haley’s room door is cracked open, and she’s sure that she closed it shut yesterday night, like she always does. She tries to assure herself that Grant’s back early. But this time it falls flat. Her palms grow sweaty and she clutches the bat tighter.

She peers through the crack, there’s a figure that simply cannot be Grant, because he’s too short and stocky, standing in the middle of the room, arms outreached towards a whimpering Haley. Jemma feels a feral scream bubble up in her throat at the sight, but she forces it down.

Slowly she tiptoes into the room, barely breathing, praying that Haley doesn’t notice her and scream for her.

Just as Haley’s eyes meet her own, and her little pink mouth opens, Jemma raises the bat and brings it down on the kidnapper’s head with a vicious thunk. The figure crumples to the ground with ease as Haley’s screams fill the room.

Jemma feels a sick swirling in her stomach at the sight of the bleeding head wound, but she forces herself to focus on Haley. She steps around the figure and scoops Haley up in her arms. “It’s okay,” she coos the little girl, clutching her tight to her chest. “I’ve got you.”

She rushes Haley out of the room, down the stairs, and out of the house, stopping only to grab her wallet, keys and phone. She slips into her car and drives a few blocks away before she can feel her hands shaking so hard the entire car is vibrating. “Calm down,” she orders herself sternly, pulling over to the side of the road. “Think,” she commands when the car is in park.

There was a man trying to kidnap Haley, she knocked him out, and left him in the house.

Suddenly, the thought hit her.

Grant.

He was out for a run at the time, and he would be back any time soon. And she left the intruder knocked out in the house waiting for him when he got back. Would the intruder hang around? She knows that he would wake up soon, and the possibility that he could wake up when Grant is walking in, terrifies her.

She pulls out her phone and dials his number. “Pick up, pick up.” She chants as she listens to the dial tone.

“Hello,” a feminine voice says coolly. Even though it’s inappropriate, she feels a flash of pain. She pulls away from the phone and glances at the number. It’s the right number.

“Hello,” her voice is shaking, “Can I speak to Grant?”

“One moment,” the polite voice says, before there’s the sound of rustling.

Jemma feels herself begin to come apart at the seams. She just knocked a person unconscious, and Grant’s seeing someone. She doesn’t know why it bothers her. It shouldn’t, not after everything. But there is a small part of her that thought that maybe they were growing closer.

She shakes the thought from her head.

“This is Ward,” his breathless voice comes over the line, and despite herself, she feels a sense of relief at the sound. She tries not to think why he would be breathless.

“Grant, it’s Jemma,” she says brokenly. “Someone broke into the house.”

“Jemma, what happened?” He asks sharply. “Are you okay? Is Haley okay?”

“We’re both fine,” she inhales deeply, trying to calm herself. “I knocked the guy unconscious with Mikey’s baseball bat. And we left the house.”

“Jemma, where are you? I’m coming right now.”

She glances at the road signs. She can barely read them through the haze of her tears. “Corner of Maple and Willow Glen.”

“I’m on my way.” He says, and she can hear the roar of an engine in the background.

“Please don’t hang up,” she begs.

“I won’t,” he swears. She can hear a few mumbles in the background. Voices, she deciphers. She hears him mumbles something angrily, before his voice returns on the line. “Jemma,” his voice is calm now, almost soothing. “Are you and Haley okay? Do either of you need medical attention?”

She glances back at Haley, buckled into the car seat, who is still sobbing, but her sobs were more muted. “We’re fine.” She says, slipping out of her seat to slide into the back with Haley. She lifts the baby out of her car seat and Haley cuddles into her chest automatically. “It’s okay,” she soothes Haley, rubbing her back with her free hand. “It’s okay.”

“Jem,” Grant’s voice interrupts her. “We’re here.”

She glances around and sees a red convertible behind her car. There are a few people in the car, but the first person she notices is Grant running towards her car. She throws open the car door, and steps out. Grant is standing in front of her. She throws herself and Haley into his arms, taking comfort in his steady warmth. He pulls away to stare at her face. His eyes ghost over her features, like he is checking her out himself. His hands cup her cheeks.

“Ward,” the polite feminine voice over the phone calls to them from behind. She peers behind to see an Asian woman standing near the car surveying the surroundings. “We’re going to check out the house, see if he’s still there.”

Grant nods, turning back towards her.

And suddenly Jemma pulls away from him. It doesn’t make any sense, who are those people with him? Why did he looks so tired and sad, but not surprised? Why were his friends saying they were going back to the house, not calling the police?

“What’s going on Grant?” She asks angrily, because she’s still in her pajamas, shivering on the side of the road, and he might know something more than she does.

He looks tired, and opens his mouth to explain, when she finally notices the third figure.

It’s Phil Coulson.

*

“Explain it to me again.” She orders, staring at the cool metal walls in front of her.

To his credit, Phil Coulson does not sigh in irritation, or make any sign of anger at her request, no matter how many times she’s asked him to explain by this point.

“Michael and Linda were with an organization called Shield.” He explains slowly. “We investigate unexplained—.”

“No, no,” she cuts him off. “I get that. Explain to me why someone is trying to kill Haley.”

Coulson’s expression wilts a bit. “We believe that it’s the same person that killed Michael and Linda. They,” Coulson pauses measuring his words, “were involved in some dangerous research, something that Haley could have been involved in.”

“Could have?” Jemma’s voice is nearly indecipherable.

Coulson’s face tightens. “Miss. Simmons, you’re going to have to trust us on this. It’s above your clearance.”

Something in her bristles. “And what about Linda? I’ve known her for years, she can’t be one your agents.”

Coulson relaxes and nods at that. “She wasn’t. At least not exactly. Mrs. Ward was involved in more of an outside contractor position. A need to know basis.”

Jemma exhales deeply. She’s still trying to process the idea that Mikey and Linda had been murdered. She had insisted that Coulson gloss over that bit. It was difficult to reconcile the loving couple she had known for years with agents of a secret government organization. “Why didn’t you send Haley away? Wouldn’t she have been safer with parents far away from Shield?”

Coulson sighs, rubbing a weary hand across his brow. He looks older than Jemma remembers and she wants to take pity on him and end the questioning, but she still can’t forget the fact that he had played with the life of Haley. “Perhaps,” Coulson muses, “but we had believed that she would be safer in Shield custody. It had been Michael and Linda’s wish for you and Ward to raise her. With Ward being a specialist, we believed that would be all the protection she needed.”

“Ward left,” she explodes. She stops quickly and inhales deeply, trying to calm herself. Anger would do her no favors right now. “He had business trips, which I suppose were for you.” She finishes thoughtfully.

“He was looking for leads,” Coulson assures, “And the entire time he was gone, we had your house under 24/7 supervision.”

“Until today,” she completes.

Coulson sighs, again. “Until today,” he agrees. “We truly believed the threat was neutralized.”

Despite herself, Jemma believes him. “I understand,” she says quietly. “What happens now?”

“It is too dangerous to send you back to Michael and Linda’s house. We’re sending you to one of our safe houses, it’s being prepped as we speak.” Coulson explains.

“Do I have to change my identity?” She asks curiously. Her mind is racing with the possibilities. Would they ask her to go into Witness Protection? Perhaps she would have to change her name. That would be a pity; she quite liked the name Jemma.

“No,” Coulson assures her. “There’s no point. The safe house is simply temporary. As soon as we can assure your safety in Michael and Linda’s house, you’ll be allowed to move back in.”

She nods, and then a thought occurs to her. “Grant?” She asks, feeling a sliver of panic slip into her heart. She knew from Coulson’s explanations that Grant had been a highly trained specialist before he had settled down to take care of Haley with her, and that was mainly because there was a threat to Haley’s life. “Is he going to be reassigned?” She swallows thickly. She can’t explain why that thought churns in her stomach, but she cannot stand the thought of doing it without him, especially now.

Coulson stares at her for a long moment, as if assessing her reaction. “No,” he shakes his head finally. “We have decided that it’s probably best if Ward remains with you both. Besides,” he finishes dryly, “I doubt he’d leave even if we wanted him to.”

*

Coulson leads her out of the interrogation room when the paperwork is complete. There’s a surprisingly large amount of paperwork that she has to fill out before they take her into protective custody.

She’s tired and her arms are itching to hold Haley in her arms.

Coulson seems to sense her anxiety and he points to one of the glass offices nearby. “They’re in there.” He says with a kind smile.

She thanks him softly, before walking towards the room. She doesn’t know what she expects to see, but the sight of Grant Ward playing with Haley takes her off guard. She knows that revelation that he’s an agent with Shield doesn’t change the fact that he’s been Haley’s father for the past month, but somehow she had almost thought it would.

She’s grateful to see that it hasn’t.

He notices her as moves into the doorway, and the smile falls off his face. His eyes scan over her face, taking in her expression.

She walks over to him, and he lifts Haley into her arms. She cuddles the toddler close, taking pleasure in the soft giggles Haley’s emitting in her ear.

Grant stands up, and he towers over her, but that concerned expression never vanishes.

“I want to go home,” she admits softly.

A few expressions flash over his face instantly. Relief that she’s not furious with him, gratitude that she’s confiding him, and finally regret that she’s hurting.

“I’m sorry,” he says in a low tone.

She’s grateful that he doesn’t begin to explain why she can’t go home, like Coulson did. He takes her pain for what it is.

Slowly, his hands wrap around her, drawing her into his chest. She cuddles further into the embrace, sandwiching Haley in between both of them. She expects the little one to protest, but instead she gives a mewling sound of content. She wonders if she feels the same thing in Grant’s arms.

For the first time today, Jemma feels safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for your patience. Please kudos and comment if you enjoyed and subscribe if you enjoyed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her whole world has been changed, and that's not even the beginning of it all. All she knows is she's angry and completely alone, and it's not a good start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short and long overdue, and I apologize for that. But I'm happy to get an update to all of you, because look I didn't give up on this story. Hopefully the plot is coursing along, and sooner or later I'll actually be able to pull everything together.

The Safe House is about three blocks away from Mikey and Linda’s place. It’s smaller, and somehow darker. She assumes it’s because of the dim lighting, but clutches Haley closer to her chest either way.

There’s an agent waiting for them outside, the same agent that spoke on the phone to her, and then came with Grant to get her. Grant goes to meet her. “Jemma,” he turns towards her. “This is Agent Melinda May, May this is Jemma.”

The older woman appraises Jemma, and gives her a small nod. “The house is secure,” May says to Grant tightly. “Agent Hunter and Agent Hartley are on patrol until the morning. And then Agent Morse will take over the security detail.”

“Thanks,” Grant says with a nod.

May moves past them into the darkness, as Grant places a soft hand on the curve of her back and maneuvers her into the house.

The moment they’re in the house, Jemma pulls away from Grant. “I need to put the baby down,” she murmurs softly, almost sprinting away from him.

She pauses outside the first door she comes across that seems like a room. She pushes it open and nearly sighs in relief at the sight of the queen size bed in the middle of the room. She arranges a circle of pillows in the center of the bed and places Haley in the middle.

She knows that she should go out and speak to Grant about everything that happened. She should understand what happened to Mikey and Linda, what everyone has been hiding for her, and how that’s going to affect Haley.

And more importantly, what happens when they’re not in danger anymore? Does he have to leave? Will he stay?

Does she want him to stay?

The last thought makes her stomach turn with dread.

There’s a light knock on the door, and it pushes forwards to reveal Grant standing on the other side looking at her with concern. “Can we talk?”

She wants to say a resounding No. She should say no. After all, they have had plenty of opportunities to talk, and he refused to act on any of them, now is not the perfect time to talk. She's angry and bitter and will probably say something she regrets. But instead, she nods and follows him out to the cramped living room.

The questions swirling around her head are too much, and she needs his help to answer them. It would be irresponsible to let them simmer inside of her, she needed answers, for Haley's sake.

He’s silent as he stands in the corner, illuminated by the standing light in the corner. She can’t help but admire the angles of his jaw, only emphasized by the low lighting. She shifts uncomfortably, because she doesn’t want to think he’s handsome, she wants to get angry. Seconds tick by and he says nothing. The longer they stare at each other, the easier it is to get angry. He had waited for so long to say anything, and that was only because someone tried to _take_ Haley. Would he have even told her if nothing happened today morning? She's so tired of his silence that she snaps.

“I thought you wanted to talk,” she lashes out, crossing her arms over her chest.

Grant’s eyes widen just a fraction, but he remains mostly passive. “I know that you’ve had a lot to take in today, and I just wanted to let you know that I’d be willing to answer any questions you have.”

“Any?” She raises an eyebrow, knowing fully well he wouldn’t be able to answer most of the questions she had honestly.

“Within reason,” he amends.

The swirling pit of anger in her stomach grows hotter by the minute. A childish part of her wants to clam up and ignore him, to refuse his peace offering. But the words fly out of her mouth before she can help it. “Do you know who did this?”

Grant is silent for a moment for longer, and Jemma begins to believe that this question is apparently out of reason. But then he answers slowly. “We believe it might have something to do with a group called the Rising Tide.”

“Those anarchist hackers,” Jemma blurts out.

“You know them?” Grant raises an eyebrow at her.

“They’ve been involved in releasing a fair amount of classified research,” Jemma feels her self grow a little hotter in embarrassment at the admission, “I might have read a few of their files.” She might have not admitted to a national crime, but the admission makes her feel a strangely guilty as if she was confessing to a crime.

“They believe in freedom of information, which is a good idea in theory,” Grant says dryly. “But the real world is built on lies and secrecy and it works, especially when it’s the best interest of the people.”

“But what if the people need to know the information,” Jemma argues, feeling defensive under Grant's wry tone. “The Rising Tide is the group who broke the news on the GH325, and that’s led to a lot of medical breakthroughs, even more potential greater ones on the horizon.”

Grant’s face twists into an unreadable expression. “Michael was working on the GH325.”

“Oh,” Jemma gasps, she takes a step back, the information hitting her, knocking the breath out of her.

“The Rising Tide found out that he was important to the formula, and released his information online. A group of,” he trails off, as if searching for the right words, “very bad people called Hydra found the information and came after Mikey and Linda. So maybe the GH325 was important, but you cannot justify the damage it’s done.”

Tears spike at the corners of Jemma’s eyes, and Mikey and Linda's bodies flash before her eyes. Her stomach churns and she has to swallow back bile. “I had no idea," she chokes out.

Grant’s face softens, and his body twitches towards her, but he doesn't move towards her. “I know.”

“And Linda was part of Shield too?” Jemma asks, swiping away at the corners of her eyes furiously, struggling to keep a lid on her bubbling emotions.

“Not exactly.” Grant explains. “She was more of a consultant. She didn’t have the proper training to be an agent. But she provided assistance when needed. She was on a need to know basis.”

“And someone killed them because of the GH325,” Jemma completes.

Grant shrugs, “It is what we believe.”

The conversation is too clinical, it was as if they were speaking about someone else entirely. Not her best friend, not his brother. But Jemma knew if she thought of Linda, her best friend Linda, she would break, and that wouldn't help anyone. So she follows Grant's lead and thinks critically.

Jemma’s brows furrow in confusion as a thought occurs to her. “But that doesn’t make any sense. I understand why they would kill Mikey and Linda, but why Haley. Why come after Haley? She knows nothing, obviously. She’s too young to know anything. And it’s not like they could use Haley to get to Mikey and Linda, they’re dead.” Her voice hitches at the end, but she tries to swallow the tears quickly, but she fails.

Maybe Grant sees something that she can’t, because within a second, he crosses the length of the room and scoops her up in his arms just as the tears begin to pour out of her eyes.

She buries her face into his chest and breathes deeply, trying to control the hysterical sobs that choke her. When she’s gotten a handle on her breathing, Grant speaks, “We think,” he says slowly, measuring his words, “that Hydra wasn’t able to get the information they needed. Haley could be the clue to that.”

“They want to hold her ransom for information.” She pulls away from him, eyes wide.

“Maybe,” he says, looking unconvinced. “But that’s not how Hydra operates.” He swallows thickly and Jemma feels the rumble of his chest as he speaks. “Hydra only takes innocent people when they need to use them against someone else.”

Jemma pulls away from him. “What are you saying?”

“I haven’t been able to get in contact with Skye all day, I’ve tried calling her since you were attacked, but she hasn’t picked up.” He rubs a tired hand over his face. “Coulson’s get two agents going to look for her. But I need to be out there myself. I wanted to get you and Haley settled in before I,” He stops suddenly. “Jemma,” he says slowly, “you have to understand.”

“I do,” she cuts him off quickly, her thoughts racing. When was the last time she had spoken to Skye? Why would Hydra need Skye? “I think I spoke to her yesterday, if that helps.”

“I remember, you mentioned it.” Grant nods. “I just need to go an check on her quickly. You’ll be safe here, I promise. The house will be protected 24/7.”

“I understand,” Jemma nods, trying to paste a brave look on her face. Her talk with Grant had left more questions in her than answers, but she had the answer to at least one of her questions. She needed him around, she needed him desperately. She had gotten dangerously used to the idea of co-parenting, to having him around all the time. And now that she knew he was leaving, and for a very good reason, she could barely stand it.

Grant stares at her, an unsure look in his eyes, like he wants to say something more, but he doesn’t. “You should get some sleep,” he says finally. “It’s been a long day.”

“And you’re not going to be here when I get up?” Jemma asks, trying to leave the bitterness out of her voice. She knows that he needs to go, to look for his sister himself. But there's a dark part of her that's furious that he couldn't stay for her or for Haley, that he would drop both of them in some unknown place declaring it safe without a second thought to what either of them had been through.

(She knows that's not true, but he's not doing anything to refute her dark unspoken thoughts and she can't force him to say that words that would ease her soul. And she's tired of waiting for him to tell her the truth.)

“Jemma,” Grant says softly, a pleading look on his face. He wants her to understand, but she's so tired.

“No,” she says shortly, turning around, because it’s easier to say the words when she’s not looking at him. “It’s fine. Let me know when you find her.”

And she leaves the room, her heart aching.

*

He’s gone when she wakes.

She knows because there’s a folded note beside her head in his writing reminding her that she’s safe because there are Shield agents stationed all around the house. It doesn’t apologize for leaving, but she doesn’t expect him to apologize. Skye’s more important, and that makes more sense in the light of day. But Jemma can’t help but feel conflicted.

She’s still furious at him for keeping a secret from her, but the anger is less in the light day. What remains is the churning sensation in her stomach at his absence. Someone tried to kidnap Haley, and probably would have killed her given the chance. But she didn’t feel scared, not when Grant was there. Now that he was gone, she is paralyzed with fear.

But she doesn't have luxury of laying in bed waiting for him to come home.

Haley is fussy all morning. She won’t let Jemma put her down for a moment, thoroughly upset with the change in environment, which is something that Jemma can sympathize with entirely. It keeps Jemma fairly distracted, which she’s grateful for.

The Shield agents keep out of her way, until mid afternoon when a smiling blonde woman knocks on the door, scaring the life out of Jemma. She hesitates for a moment, hand locked onto the doorknob, cursing Grant again for leaving her alone, before the woman understands her hesitation.

“Don’t worry,” she half shouts through the door and then holds up her Shield badge to the peep hole.

Jemma can’t help but feel slightly sheepish as she opens the door and lets the blonde woman in. As she shuts the door, the blonde woman introduces herself. “Agent Bobbi Morse, but please call me Bobbi.” She holds out her hand for Jemma to shake, and continues, “Grant’s a friend and he asked me to handle your security detail personally.”

“Oh you didn’t have to do that,” Jemma says half-heartedly.

“We protect our own,” Bobbi says seriously before she lets go of Jemma’s hand. “I didn’t want to disturb you today, figured you’d have your hands full with the baby, and we hoped that Grant would get back before you even realized we were here—.”

“Have you heard anything from him?” Jemma interjects, unable to stop herself.

Bobbi doesn’t seem to mind the interruption, and simply shakes her head. Jemma frowns deeply and Bobbi rushes to correct herself. “It’s nothing to worry about, though. It’s possible that he’s still on his way or he has his hands full with Skye. I’m sure he’ll call us as soon as he can.” Then she inhales sharply, “Besides Grant’s good, one of the best.”

Jemma nods unsurely, attempting to agree with the agent. “You were saying,” Jemma prompts Bobbi back to the topic at hand, as eager to move off the subject of Grant as she was to talk about him.

“Right,” Bobbi instantly corrects herself. “Like I was saying, we were hoping to be out of your hair, but something came up,” and she trails off.

“What?” Jemma asks.

“Just curious, you didn’t let your boss know you wouldn’t go in for work today, did you?”

“No,” Jemma nearly slaps her forehead. “I just forgot, and oh god,” she instantly moves towards the small living room, searching for the burner phone Grant had left for her yesterday night. “I guess I just assumed that Shield would take care of everything.”

“And they did,” Bobbi says from behind her. “You’re officially on a indefinite vacation from work, but apparently that didn’t sit well with one of your co-workers. We found a Leopold Fitz banging on your front door, demanding to be let in.”

Jemma whirls around to face Bobbi. “Did you tell him where I was?”

“He’s currently in Shield custody, he refused to leave, and we weren’t exactly sure if he was Hydra or not, so we—.”

“He’s not,” Jemma cuts Bobbi off quickly, the words stumbling out of her mouth in a hurry to get Fitz out of whatever holding cell he was being kept in. “Please let him go. He’s a friend, my best friend. I didn’t think, I forgot to tell him what happened.”

“It’s fine,” Bobbi soothes her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We realized that after he wouldn’t stop asking if you were okay. I’ve actually brought him with me, if you want to talk to him?”

“Yes,” Jemma nods gratefully. “Please.”

Right on cue, Fitz walks through the doorway, and Jemma breaks. She hurries across the room and pulls Fitz into a hug, a tangled mess of limbs. Tears are streaming down her face, and she can absently hear Bobbi excuse herself. It takes minutes, possibly hours, for Jemma to compose herself enough to pull away from Fitz. He’s looking at her so worriedly that Jemma nearly breaks again.

“It’s so good to see you,” Jemma breathes out, dragging Fitz to the couch and pulling him down beside her.

“I heard what happened,” Fitz clasps his hand over her own, squeezing her hand gently. He exhales shakily. “Jemma—.”

“I know,” Jemma says softly. “I know.”

“How long do you have to say here?” He asks, looking around the room.

“I don’t know,” she shakes her head, following his gaze. “Grant says until we know the other house is safe for sure.”

“Grant,” Fitz says slowly. “Where is he?”

Quickly Jemma explains Grant’s epiphany yesterday night, and as she’s talking, Fitz’s face begins to drain, until he’s nearly pale as a bed sheet. “Fitz,” Jemma stops mid-explanation, “are you okay?”

“No,” Fitz says lowly. “I’m so stupid,” he slaps his forehead forcefully, “I thought she just hung up on me,” he stops suddenly. “Oh god, I think something happened to Skye.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A cliffhanger? WHY! Honestly it was because I plan on a pov shift in the next chapter and it didn't feel organic to shift pov mid chapter. We'll get Grant's point of view next chapter. 
> 
> But a bit of explanation before I let you all go. I really needed this chapter to establish some things, Jemma cares for Grant, but she's just been betrayed by him, and by her dead best friend to a lesser extent. That's why I split them up, I needed to take a moment to breath and work through all her anger, which she still hasn't done, because she's preoccupied by the fact that Skye's missing. This story is moving forward, it's just that Ward and Simmons need a moment to breath and readjust to their new relationship. And of course to recenter themselves around Haley. 
> 
> Please comment and kudos if you enjoyed, and subscribe if you enjoyed because there's definitely more to come.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment, kudos and subscribe if you enjoyed it. There's going to be more!


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